Anything But That
by GettingBy
Summary: Roger wants to mess around with Mark's camera, and Mark's not entirely thrilled about it.  It's somewhat of an explanation for a line from the play, as a matter of fact.


**Anything But That**

**Disclaimer: **I'm only borrowing the inspiration of the great Jonathon Larson.

"You mess with that camera way too much. Don't you ever get tired of playing with it _all _the time?"

Carefully finishing the cut he was marking on his newest roll of film, Mark let his eyes rise from the frozen scene and come to rest on Roger. His roommate was lying diagonally on his back on the couch so that his head dropped off the front and his feet were propped up on the arm. It wasn't hard to tell from his upside down gaze that he was bored, and Mark was quite aware that Roger being bored wasn't ever a good sign. Especially when Mark was trying to work.

"Don't you get tired of playing guitar and writing angst-filled poems _all _the time?" he shot back, sparking a grin from Roger.

"Yes," he replied, stretching his arms over his head. Wiggling his fingers to show how empty they were, he pointed out, "See? No guitar or notebook."

Mark rolled his eyes and hunched over his equipment again with his back to Roger, hoping that he'd take the hint, and pretended that that was likely. For a few minutes that seemed to actually be the case, for once. He'd just finished splicing a section together when he realized that there was a presence behind him, hovering silently.

"What do you want, Roger?" Mark asked through gritted teeth, pointedly not turning around.

If Mark didn't know better already, he might have believed that Roger was actually hurt, and wasn't just amusing himself by being distracting and trying to get a rise out of him. "I wanted to see what you were doing," Roger replied, and Mark could just _hear_ the sulky pout. He sighed audibly and readjusted his glasses with one hand as he craned his neck around.

Roger's proximity, perched on his heels with his chest nearly brushing Mark's back, would have startled him enough to cause him to fall over if he hadn't already been sitting cross-legged on the ground. As it was, he flinched slightly and replied with as much dignity as he could, "And asking was too much trouble?"

A smug smile crossed Roger's face. "I didn't want to bother you when you were so busy," he asserted with a shrug, and before Mark could call him on it, continued, "Will you show me how your camera works?"

This gave Mark pause. For once Roger actually sounded like he wanted to learn something, and he'd been working for long enough to want a break anyway. Besides, Roger seemed so eager, having settled into a sitting position with his knees drawn up to his chest and his most intense look trained on Mark.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he finally said, "Yeah. Let me just…" As he spoke, his voice trailing off, he was rapidly loading a fresh roll of film and putting the camera back together. "There."

Roger nodded. "I can't see. Come closer," he told Mark, who obliged, moving over so that he was right next to him.

"Okay," Mark said, feeling awkward, as though he were teaching a class instead of his best friend. That sentiment seemed mirrored by Roger, who was still fixing him with that same stare. It was disconcerting, so he looked back at the body of the camera that he held, running his hands over the familiar, slightly scratched surface. It seemed ridiculous, that he sometimes found it hard to look at Roger—a little like looking at the sun for too long.

"This is the power button," he went on, the feeling of stupidity increasing, "and this is the zoom." He indicated both, and then looked back up for Roger's reaction.

The attentiveness that had been emanating from Roger was ebbing. He had relaxed back onto his hands, and now he leaned his head onto Mark's shoulder. Mark could hear Roger breathing, softly and steadily so that the pressure of his cheek increased and then lessened. "That's cool," Roger replied, and Mark wondered if he'd even heard what had been said.

"Can I try it?" Roger reached for the camera lazily, and Mark snatched it out of reach.

"No," he told the other boy, leaning away from him and holding it out to one side. Roger may have been his best friend, but he didn't particularly trust him with his camera, especially in this kind of mood.

"Please?" Roger wheedled, rolling over onto his stomach and reaching behind Mark, trying to grab the camera. When that didn't work, he put a hand on Mark's leg as leverage and lunged forward. Mark tried to wriggle away, but Roger pressed down on his thigh with one hand, and planted a hand on his chest to shove him backwards with the other. Out of concern for his camera, there wasn't a whole lot that Mark could do, especially when Roger had the advantage of being a little taller and stronger than Mark liked to admit to himself.

Before he could do anything else, Roger had reached over his head and grabbed the camera from him. He scrambled back to the couch, but stayed sitting on the floor as he fumbled with the power button and pointed the camera at Mark.

Instinctively, Mark put a hand over his face and held out the other. "C'mon, Rog. Give it back," he entreated, but Roger stood up and kept backing away.

"Testing," he said, mouth so close that it was practically on the camera, "Test…1…2…3….testing. Hey Mark, wave!"

"Bastard. That has to be the most idiotic sound check ever," Mark retorted, following Roger and trying to get close enough to retrieve his camera without hurting it.

Roger circled the couch, keeping it in between himself and Mark. "Test, 1, 2, 3," he said again, smirking, "What's the matter, Mark? Don't you like being the one on camera for once?"

With a snort, Mark shook his head. "I don't want you to break it," he replied with irritation.

When he reached the table, Roger stopped and used one hand to hoist himself up, sitting with his legs spread apart and elbows resting on them, still focusing on Mark. "Break it?" he said incredulously, "But I know where the power and the zoom are! What else could I possibly need to know?"

Being made fun of frustrated Mark's already short temper further, and when he reached Roger he just stood and held a hand out, snapping, "Very funny. Give it to me."

Roger held the camera up over his head, and when Mark didn't take the bait, leaned closer and grabbed his shoulder to pull him a little nearer. Mark tried to shake off his hand, but Roger curled his fingers into the fabric of his shirt, hanging on. "What are you doing, Roger?" he asked in exasperation, slapping sharply at Roger's hand.

Sometimes it amazed him how clueless Roger could be. He was still wearing that little smirk that meant he was playing around and teasing, which Mark wanted to smack off of his face, because the situation had obviously gone past being a fun game. He really didn't know if Roger just had a fantastic ability to not see lines at all, or if he knew perfectly well where they were, and just stepped over them purposely. At any rate, he'd definitely crossed the line this time. This was about Mark's _camera,_ and Mark definitely wasn't laughing about it.

The smirk didn't falter as Roger let go of Mark's shoulder, and slipped his thumb through Mark's belt loop instead, pulling so that he stumbled forward and wound up standing between Roger's legs. "Testing. 1…2…3," Roger replied, and Mark wanted even more to hit him as he tilted his head down and kissed Mark.

Immediately, Mark tensed, but he didn't pull away. At first, he was too surprised that even Roger would have the gall to do something like try to kiss him when he was already angry, and it didn't occur to him to draw back. By the time it did, the kiss was already over, though Roger was still holding him against the edge of the table.

Mark faltered. He was _mad_ at Roger, damn it, and if Roger thought that kissing him was going to make it all go away then he was wrong, particularly because he was still doing that "crossing lines" thing, just in a new form. He pointedly ignored the fact that the kiss had left him a little bit hard, because it had been too long since he'd had any kind of contact with anyone, and besides, it was Roger, after all.

Just as he started to step back to tell Roger off, Roger set down his camera to one side and grabbed Mark's chin, angling his face so that he could kiss him again. His grip was a little too tight, and he kissed Mark hard, probing his mouth wantonly until Mark had to clutch at Roger's hips just for something to hold onto. By the time they drew apart this time, Roger had wrapped his legs around Mark's waist, and Mark was relatively sure that his lips were going to be bruised the next day.

He was satisfied to see that all traces of the smirk had left Roger's countenance, to be replaced with dark eyes, and lips half-parted as he looked Mark up and down. Slowly he let go of Mark's chin and instead rested his hands on Mark's back, leaning back and pulling him forward, so that both boys were lying on top of the table.

Now that Mark had given in, he couldn't _stop_ kissing Roger. He readjusted himself so that he knelt with a knee on either side of Roger's waist, and then bent to nip and lick off the lazy smile that had slid back across Roger's mouth.

He found the corner of Roger's lips and from there tracked a path to his ear, outlining it with his tongue and biting down on the lobe. His reward was a throaty moan that shot straight to his groin, and a pair of hands grabbing his ass firmly. The touch shifted, trailing up to latch onto the bottom of his shirt and drag it up over his head.

From there, Roger dropped the T-shirt carelessly behind him, the threadbare material crumpling to the ground, letting his arms stay stretched behind him. Mark lost no time in divesting him of his shirt as well, his eyes raking down the lithe torso beneath him until he realized that from his pose, Roger was preening again. A faint blush spilled across Mark's face and along his chest as he was caught staring, and he closed his slightly-open mouth quickly. Leisurely, Roger ran his hands up Mark's arms and down his back, lightly, a trail of heat burning in their wake.

Then Roger grinned ferally and, suddenly, slipped a hand between their bodies to palm Mark through his jeans. Even with his fingers curled around, digging into the side of the metal table, he couldn't keep his arms taut and collapsed on top of Roger, pressing them together full-length. Roger captured Mark's bottom lip between his teeth, gently tugging so that it slid out slowly, and undid the button and zipper of Mark's jeans, folding the denim aside so that he could go back to kneading Mark through the thinner material of his boxers.

Mark barely had a moment to consider why Roger was so good at this, and reflect that no _wonder_ his roommate took so long showering if his hands could move so amazingly, before he'd practically stopped thinking altogether and just let himself _feel._

He was flipped over, onto his back, and didn't resist as Roger hovered over him, tracing sinuous designs around his chest and belly with his tongue while he let the last of both of their clothes drop off the side of the table. With a slightly shaky hand, Mark reached out to grab Roger's freed cock, earning him what sounded more like a purr than anything else. He had to let go after a moment, though, as Roger slid down his body to take his cock in his mouth.

Skillfully and efficiently, Roger worked his tongue and teeth over Mark, hollowing his cheeks and not flinching as Mark bucked against the back of his throat involuntarily. It was just so fucking _good,_ and as much as Mark told himself that it was just because it had been way too long since he'd gotten _anything_ beyond fantasies, he kept having to hush the voice in the back of his head that was saying that maybe it was just _Roger._

Either way, as Mark came, he had to try somewhat unsuccessfully to hold back a yelp of pleasure, and the sight of Roger swallowing thickly and licking his lips in satisfaction would have been enough to get him hard again if he wasn't already exhausted.

While he recovered, breath still ragged, he watched as Roger braced himself against the table and took himself in hand, getting himself off quickly. Mark started to sit up, reaching towards Roger to help him out, marveling at the taut muscles of Roger's back as it arched in pleasure, but he shifted away slightly.

Mark's eyes never left Roger, trying to ignore how much he was hoping that Roger would look over at him, just for a moment, just so that he'd know that Roger was thinking about him.

As soon as he was done, Roger reached for his clothes, grabbing them and turning towards the bathroom. Mark let him go, silently, knowing that they weren't going to talk about this again, at least not when they were both sober.

Just before he disappeared into the bathroom to clean himself up and come out looking like nothing had happened, and he hadn't just sucked off his best friend, Roger turned back, and Mark's throat caught slightly. "Sorry about your camera," Roger said, and then he shut the door.

_"Test…1…2…3…"_

_"Anything but that."_


End file.
